


i'm a fool, for i believed your lies

by SmittyJaws



Series: you're my best friend [7]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Crying, F/M, Lots of Crying, ace!Deaky, ace!reader, seriously there's so much crying in this story, the band's not in this one at all whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 16:17:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18641644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmittyJaws/pseuds/SmittyJaws
Summary: When your parents told you they wanted to reconcile, you never would have expected what they would do next.





	i'm a fool, for i believed your lies

**Author's Note:**

> Series notes: As always, I want to thank @glamrockmonarch for her kickass headcanons that started this AU. 
> 
> Very slight AU, mostly in that this story assumes asexuality is more visible/discussed in the 70s (still stigmatized much like any deviation from “standard” heterosexual relationships though), but otherwise not much else is different aside from my lapses in memory regarding other historical information (and/or wildly different obvious changes I’ve made for fun XD). Fic title is taken from the lyrics to Who Needs You.
> 
> [Fic notes: Uh oh, the parents are back. Without spoiling things too much, this is a fair warning that things with them get pretty ugly at one point; specific warnings for verbal and slight physical abuse.]

You haven’t spoken to your parents in months. Contact with them had dropped to an all-time low after they gave you the ultimatum about your wedding with John, and after the wedding, your relationship with them really deteriorated. You had been so busy with work and worrying over John’s health and recovery over the first year of your marriage that you just didn’t see contacting them as a priority, and your parents hadn’t made much of an effort to get ahold of you either.

So when you get a phone call one afternoon from your mother saying that she’d love to have you come over for a visit, you’re rather surprised. You’re also rather suspicious, and don’t let on that John’s listening in on the other line (you had signalled him to do so the moment you had greeted your mother - past experiences have made you very wary). Your mother insists that she’s missed having you around for visits, to which you don’t even bother to hide an eye roll (what for? She can’t see) about the obvious reason for that absence that neither of you will say out loud.

Still, your mother sounds penitent and says she’d like to be able to see her only daughter again. She expresses a desire to clear the air, and you inwardly scoff, but reluctantly agree to a visit soon, if only to prove that you’re being the bigger person here. You’re sure John is not pleased by this decision, given your parents’ track record, but you can discuss that later.

Sure enough, the moment you end the call, John re-enters the sitting room rather quickly with a frown on his face. “You can’t be seriously considering going to see them. Not after everything they’ve done to you. After what they’ve done to _us_.” He sounds disapproving, but his voice takes on a pleading note at the end, betraying his concern. He crouches down in front of where you’re sitting on the sofa and takes your hands in his. “I don’t think this is a good idea, love. Please don’t go.”

You’re scrubbing at your face with your hands, trying to relieve some of the tension that’s risen. “I don’t want to either, but she did sound as though she wants to move past this,” you begin hesitantly. “I just don’t want to give up on this without seeing if she truly wants to salvage this. I already know my two youngest brothers have got to be wondering why I never call or visit anymore; they likely haven’t been told anything. You’d do the same for Julie.” You look John in the eyes, pleading with him to understand.

“I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t want to see you put yourself in danger,” John returns, squeezing your hands slightly. “I really can’t imagine that this is going to go well, and I can’t bear to see you putting yourself at risk. Much as I know your connection to your family and brothers is important to you, your wellbeing is what’s important to me.” He moves to sit beside you on the sofa, holding you close. “I think you shouldn’t go.”

You move away a bit and turn to face John, feeling the beginnings of tears in your eyes. “I know. I don’t have a lot of hope for it either, but I have to try. The youngest ones are only 13 and 8; too young to fully understand why I’ve suddenly disappeared from their lives. I couldn’t do that to them. I already almost lost you last year, and I don’t want to lose them if I can help it. I don’t feel as though I can win, though, no matter what decision I make.”

John sighs, seeing how upset you truly are by this whole situation and how trapped you feel. He pulls you closer to him again and runs his hand through your hair gently as you cry, heartbroken over the decision to potentially put yourself in emotional danger with your parents, or risk never seeing any of your family again. John says nothing as he holds you, just letting you take comfort in having him near. After a few minutes, though, he speaks up. “Alright. I don’t like this, but I suppose you should see if they’re actually interested in patching things up. God knows we’d never forgive ourselves if they were serious and we avoided that opportunity.”

You pull away to look John in the eyes, trying to wipe away tears. “You mean it?”

“Yes. If you’d truly like to go, I won’t stop you. I’m not here to forbid you from doing anything; I’m not some domineering jail-master.” John jokes but still sounds a bit reluctant. “But! I’d like to set a few conditions, though. For your own safety, just given their track record with you.”

You nod, eyes shining with the first glimmer of hope you’ve had for this situation in a while. “Yes, of course. What did you have in mind?”

“I’d like you to arrange it for a time when I’m not away touring or recording; even if I’m not there with you, I don’t want you to deal with this alone.”

“That’s fair.” You nod again. “Anything else?”

“I think it’d be best to keep it to a short visit, if possible? If all goes badly, then you shouldn’t be there for long. If it goes well, then we can always arrange for more time at a later date.”

“Also fair. Anything more?”

“I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind? At least to drop you off and pick up after. If they’re truly interested in patching things up, then that should be alright if I’m around for a short period of time?” He sounds hopeful with this last one, and you know part of him wants this to be a good meeting as much as you do. He’s never fully spoken about it to you, but you know that their rejection after his first and only meeting with them really upset him.

You nod again, still trying to clean up your face from crying. “Absolutely. I think that all sounds more than reasonable, and if that’s what it takes for your approval for this visit, then I’ll most definitely go along with it.”

“Then it’s settled.” John gives you a small smile as he squeezes your hand again. “I’ll let you know about any dates that won’t work for my schedule, and you can arrange that with your mother later.”

“Thank you, love.” You wrap your arms around him gratefully and kiss him on the cheek, glad to have someone as supportive as John in your life. You know he’s still not fully happy about this visit, but that he’s trying to make the best of it for you and you really appreciate him trying to make this work. “You won’t regret this.”

——

You manage to arrange a date to visit with your mother, and the time passes deceptively quickly until it arrives. You’re a bit on edge for this visit, and you can tell John is too as you both get ready to make the drive up to your parents’ house.

Neither of you say much on the way up, not really feeling up to idle chat at the moment. Silent moments like this aren’t necessarily uncommon for you two, but this one definitely has an undercurrent of tension lurking below the deceptively calm surface.

Soon, you’ve arrived at your parents’ house, and you find yourself taking a deep breath in preparation for whatever the afternoon’s events may bring. John takes your hand in his, trying to offer support, but you know he’s just as apprehensive as you are. He walks you to the front door, still holding your hand, trying to be with you as long as possible before he has to leave.

You don’t have to wait long before your mother opens the door, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of John beside you. “Oh! Hello, dear.” John nods politely in greeting but doesn’t let go of your hand, refusing to remove this show of solidarity from your mother’s sight. She turns to you, looking slightly uncomfortable. “You didn’t mention you’d both be coming… oh dear. If I had known…” she trails off.

“John’s not staying.” You shake your head. “He’s running some errands while we visit and he’ll pick me up afterwards.” You can feel the tension dissolve slightly at that, and your mother relaxes.

“Oh! Well then. Come along!” Her face brightens up as she beckons you inside, and you try not to let her suddenly chipper mood affect you. Small steps after all. A quick glance over at John’s face reveals that his jaw has tightened slightly at this brief dismissal, but he still says nothing except to lean in and give you a kiss on your forehead before releasing your hand to let you follow your mother into the house.

You remind yourself that it’s only a few hours as you watch John drive off faster than is probably necessary, but already you’re a bit tense at that barely-polite treatment. Clearly, some things haven’t changed a bit. You try to stay optimistic, though, reminding yourself that Rome wasn’t built in a day. Maybe your parents would rather speak with you first on your own, and then they’ll be more alright to ease John back into their lives.

Your mother offers you tea and tells you to have a seat in the sitting room while you wait. You ask some trivial questions about your brothers as you wander the front hall a bit first, trying to fill the awkward silence while you look at the new photos your parents have put up on the walls. My, how all your brothers are growing up. You feel a surge of nostalgia for the days when you were able to visit and see them more frequently and hope that this is the start to that happening again, even though your oldest three brothers must all be moved out and living elsewhere while they attend university.

You decide to head back into the sitting room, but stop short for a moment when you see an older gentleman already seated in there, with his own cup of tea. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I didn’t realize that there was someone already in here. I’ll just-“ You’re about to turn and find your mother right behind you, none-too-gently herding you back into the room.

“I see you’ve met Dr. Linley!” Your mother is beaming as she urges you to have a seat before handing you your tea. “He went to school with your father for a while, and he’s here as a personal favour to us.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Dad’s back acting up, then?” You knew he’d been having issues with it for a few years, but you didn’t think it had gotten bad enough to warrant a doctor making a house call. “Should I be concerned? Come to think of it, where is he, anyway?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” your mother waves a hand. “He’s out with your two youngest brothers right now; he had been planning an outing with them for a while before I told him about your visit. He sends his regrets about missing seeing you today.”

“Okay? Then what is it?” Now you’re just confused. “Is it your arthritis?”

“Oh no, dear,” your mother denies, stepping out of the room as soon as she’s made sure you and the doctor both have enough tea. “Don’t you worry about me!”

There’s another awkward pause while you can hear your mother puttering around in the kitchen, likely getting herself some tea or some such thing. You smile politely at Dr. Linley, noticing that he seems to be observing you. You feel a little like an insect under a magnifying glass, and clear your throat a bit. “Sorry, mum - why did you say the doctor was here?”

“Oh, he’s here to talk to you!” Your mother re-enters the room with a plate of biscuits before wandering back out again, and you feel your eyes widen a bit.

“…what do you mean, he’s here to talk to me?” You have a sneaking suspicion about where this is going, and you don’t like it one bit.

Just then, the doctor speaks up, leaning forward in his seat to shake your hand cordially. “It’s wonderful to meet you. Your father’s told me about you and all your brothers over the years.” At your look of suspicion, he clarifies: “a few of us from school used to go out for drinks once a week, and your father told us about you all growing up. We haven’t been able to go in ages, but your mother has been updating me on how things have been more recently.”

“Oh. Alright then.” You’re still tense, but if your parents have spoken to him about all of your brothers as well as you, then things can’t be so bad as you originally thought? The doctor proceeds to ask you about your studies and work, actually seeming to show some interest and not merely criticizing you the way your parents do. Your mother has come in to have her own seat and chimes in occasionally.

After a short while, you hear a car pull up and your father and brothers enter. Your brothers aren’t looking too well, and your father says as such: “we had to cut our trip short; think they’ve caught whatever bug is going around the schools. Dear, would you?” He sighs as your mother leaves the room to see about getting the boys to bed, but nods in greeting to Dr. Linley. “Hello, George.”

The two of them converse a little bit; surface topics like cricket scores and the weather before your father excuses himself to fetch his own cup of tea. Then it’s just you and the doctor again, and you get that feeling once more of being examined. You’re unsure of what to say, but then he breaks the silence: “so besides your unorthodox field of study, your parents tell me that you have an… odd identity.”

At first, you aren’t certain you’ve heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”

To his credit, he doesn’t even deny what he’s just asked, but instead just repeats himself. “Yes; they said you don’t consider yourself properly heterosexual; that you prefer to associate yourself with a different identity instead.”

You splutter and cough through the sip of tea you’ve just taken, in complete disbelief at the invasiveness of that statement. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Dr. Linley raises his hands in a show of surrender. “Forgive me for asking, but your parents seemed quite concerned. So you do consider yourself heterosexual? There’s no wishful thinking of other identities or cause for concern here?”

“That’s a private matter, and it’s _not_ something I’d like to talk about,” you grit out through your teeth, getting angrier and angrier at this situation. How dare he? For that matter, how dare your parents?

You see him glance over at the doorway, where your mother is now standing watching before he looks back at you. “Fascinating. She’s extremely elusive on the subject; never fear, though, we’ll find a proper course of treatment for her.”

“…what?” You can see your mother nodding, and you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “Treatment? What is this? What kind of doctor are you anyway?” Your voice raises a bit by the end of your sentence, but you don’t care. This is beyond offensive.

Your father speaks up from where he’s joined your mother in the doorway before they both enter the room. “Dr. Linley is one of the most respected psychiatrists in the country, and he’s agreed to look into your case as a favour to me. He knows what he’s doing, and can help you with your problem.”

“I don’t. Have. A PROBLEM.” You’re incredibly angry at this point, and don’t care who knows if; decorum be damned. “I’m perfectly fine, and I’m not seeing anyone to ‘cure’ anything.”

You see your mother exchanging a significant look with Dr. Linley as if to say _“you see the struggle we’re going through?”_ and you can’t help but choke out a bit of a laugh. “Oh my God. Are you actually so desperate to see me ‘fixed’ to your standards? I’m an adult! This isn’t even your decision to make!”

“It is if you’re not of sound mind,” your father declares, voice low. “If Dr. Linley determines that you’re not fit to make your own decisions due to your clearly unstable mental state, then laws of guardianship take effect again. And I will not have you ruin your life over something so detrimental; Dr. Linley can get you into the Chelmsford Institution past the waiting list, and we’ll get this all sorted out. Nice and easy.”

Forget angry; you’re terrified now. _Can they do that?_ You have no idea if your father is bluffing or not to make you go voluntarily, but you can’t take that risk. “I’m sorry, I need to go,” you stammer, standing up. “I just remembered, I need to meet John at the store.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” your father advances, hand clamping onto your arm to prevent you from leaving. “You see how clearly unhinged she is?” He turns to the doctor, who just nods in understanding before pulling out what looks like a medical pad to write on. “Definitely in need of help.”

You’re trying not to start crying, but this is so much worse than you ever thought it would be. Nothing you say or do is helping, and any attempt at movement makes your father’s grip on your arm tighten. Your parents and Dr. Linley are discussing options as though you’re no longer in the room, and you’ve just about given up all hope. You imagine all sorts of different scenarios about getting out of this, and none of them end any other way than in the back of the doctor’s car in a straightjacket. Just then you hear a low angry voice speak up. “What the _hell_ is going on here?”

John’s in the doorway, and he looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. His eyes are fixed on where your father is still gripping your arm tightly. “Get your hands off my wife.”

“How did you get in here?” Your father glares at John. “No one let you in.”

You actually do start crying then, but these are tears of relief because you’re sure everything is going to be alright now. You’re not alone in this anymore. You meet John’s eyes for a moment, and for just a brief moment, his face softens as he looks at you in your clearly distressed state, before his gaze turns back to your father and becomes sharpened steel again. “I knocked, but no one answered. Then I heard raised voices and I was concerned, and I found that the front door was unlocked. So I let myself in,” John returns as he meets your father’s glare. “And I’ll say it again; get your hands off my wife.”

“You’d do well to show me some respect in my own house, boy,” your father sneers. “She’s my daughter, and I won’t have her life be ruined by the likes of you any longer. She’s going to get the help she needs. I’d tell you that you should as well, but I think that’s a bit of a lost cause.”

“She may be your daughter, but I’m her husband,” John growls, advancing into the room, not backing down from your father. You can see Dr. Linley and your mother in the background, tense as they watch this clash between the two men. John continues: “she’s an adult, and can make her own decisions, and doesn’t need you to ‘help’ her. Nor do I, for that matter. Now let her go; we’re leaving.”

“No.” Your father is just as stubborn, and won’t release his hold on your arm. If anything; he tightens it - you can’t stop a small whimper of pain, and honestly won’t be surprised if you end up with bruises later from this. “I won’t have you ruining her life more than you already have. She’s getting help, and then everything will be as it should. For that matter-“

Your father’s rant is suddenly cut off by a swift right hook to the face, and he staggers back, reeling. For a split second, everyone is gaping in silence, including John who’s just staring at his clenched fist as though it’s a foreign object, before the room explodes into chaos. Your mother is hysterical, the doctor looks like he’s trying not to draw attention to himself, John’s trying to gather you up now that your father has released his grip on you, you’re shaking from the stress of this all, and your father… your father is enraged.

Quicker than you thought was possible, he’s recovering from the punch and is advancing back on you and John. John quickly pushes you behind him and urges you to get your things while he faces down your father’s wrath. “How dare you,” your father seethes, grabbing at your wrist before you can run off, shock having dulled your reflexes slightly. “How dare you come into my own home, and presume you can get away with this behaviour. Talking back, assaulting me, trying to kidnap my daughter and prevent her from getting the help she needs; I take back what I said earlier - you need help. You’re a danger to others.”

John’s fist is clenching again. “Let her go and leave her alone. Leave us both alone.”

“Or what?” Your father has an insufferable smirk on his face, as though he’s sure he’ll come out of this ahead.

“Or I won’t hesitate to do what I have to to protect her.” John steps forward and shoves at your father’s chest, pushing him away from you and making him let go of your arm. For someone as slender as John, his shove is deceptively powerful and your father staggers back again. Possibly because he’s still recovering from the previous punch, possibly because he didn’t expect John to retaliate this way… either way, he’s released you again and you don’t hesitate this time, grabbing your shoes and jacket.

You don’t hear anything else that might have been said, too focused on the urge to escape the house and get away from all of this. You practically sprint to the car, quickly getting in and huddling up against the door while you watch John stalk out of the house angrily, wasting no time before getting in and driving off while your father shouts from the front doorstep.

——

The drive home is incredibly tense, and you’re trying (with some difficulty) to prevent yourself from hyperventilating, still in disbelief that your parents would actually do such a thing. You’re having a hard time reconciling the image of parents who loved and raised you with the absolute rage and lack of understanding they’d displayed today. A quick glance over at John reveals that his jaw is clenched and he has a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

When you get home, you bolt out of the car and run to the bedroom, locking yourself in as you finally break down. You end up collapsing on the floor in front of the door, not even able to find the strength to make it to the bed. Endless questions keep whirling around your head as you shake and sob, unable to cope with all the stress of the day. How could they do this to you? How could your mother so blatantly lie to you? How could your parents possibly think it was alright in any way to deceive you and bring in a psychiatrist to evaluate you without your consent? How could your father be so cruel as to imply that he would have you taken away against your will?

Then your thoughts take a slightly darker turn. How could John so easily get physically violent with your father? In all the time you’ve known him, you know he’s not one to start or get involved with fist fights. Yet, he’d taken up arms against your father with no hesitation and sent him reeling… for a brief moment, you’re frightened of that kind of physical power that John clearly has, but has never shown before.

Then you shake yourself out of that train of thought and feel ashamed of yourself for being frightened and for thinking that way. John wouldn’t have acted that way if he hadn’t thought he needed to, and honestly, it was rather a relief to have him stand up to your father on your behalf, seeing how your attempts to escape had done nothing. That, of course, sends you back to thinking about your parents again though, wondering how things could possibly have gotten so bad that they felt the need to push both you and John so far.

You have no idea how long you’ve sat there on the floor, but eventually, your crying subsides and your back is aching from where you’ve been leaned up against the door the whole time. You stretch and grimace as you hear your back crack in protest, and want nothing more at this point than to go see John. You unlock the door and are greeted by the sight of John standing up, his back making odd sounds as well. “…were you sitting by the door this whole time?” you whisper, voice hoarse from all the crying.

John just nods, but says nothing as he watches you, clearly not fully alright either. Seeing him upset is making you upset all over again, and you can feel more tears welling up from all the anger and pain your parents have caused you both. You feel arms wrapping around you holding you close, and you find yourself wondering just when John had moved closer to you.

He gently guides you back into the bedroom and you both lie on the bed, just holding each other close. At some point Bean joins you, looking for attention as she curls up on the pillow beside your head to sleep. The day’s events have mentally exhausted you and you find yourself wishing you could sleep too, but your mind is still racing and you can’t seem to calm yourself down. You also know that the two of you should discuss this sooner than later, to clear the air. “Please don’t say ‘I told you so’,” you mumble, hating how choked up and raspy your voice sounds.

“Hmmm?” John has presumably been lost in thought and doesn’t sound as though he’s heard you.

“You were right. I was wrong. Please don’t tell me you told me so, because I already feel like enough of an idiot today,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

“What? Of course not. I would never.” John sounds surprised you’d even say something like that. “God knows you’ve been through enough already today; you don’t need me rubbing anything in.”

“But you saw it coming!” You’re frustrated now, trying to articulate the deep sense of guilt that you’ve been feeling ever since you got home. “You knew. You said you had a bad feeling about this visit, and I still went anyway, and everything ended up being so much worse than I thought.”

“You couldn’t know that.” John sits up and is frowning slightly as he looks at you staring at the ceiling in despair. “How could you possibly have known that they would take it that far?”

“I don’t know!” You burst out, feeling tears of anger come up this time. _God, why can’t you seem to stop crying?_ “But I should have known. I should have known better than to trust them when they said they wanted to reconcile. I should have known that they would just try again to get me ‘fixed’.”

“You couldn’t have,” John reminds you firmly, taking your hand in his and rubbing circles on it with his thumb. “That’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“I should have been able to do something! I should have said no when she asked for a visit, I should have walked away the moment you said something was wrong; hell, the fact that she was rude to you _to your face_ should have been enough of a warning and I should have left right then and there.” You’re too caught up in your ranting to think of much else, too angry at your parents. “She had no right to treat you like that, and I just… went along with it.” Suddenly your anger deflates as you think of your apparent complicity and you turn to John. “Does that make me a bad person? I should have said something.”

John wraps your hand in both of his and reassures you, “No, it doesn’t. There’s not much you could have done, short of causing a scene, and I really don’t think that would have gone well for us either way. I appreciate the thought, though.”

“I still feel awful, though. I feel as though there must have been something I could have done, or should have done. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if-“ you’re cut off by John.

“Don’t keep thinking like that. Your parents were set in their plan; they would have done this one way or another.” He tilts your head when you refuse to make eye contact with him, forcing you to look at him as he speaks. “If not this time, then it would have been another time. They would have lured you in with promises no matter what you said or did, and there’s nothing you could have done to prevent that. And you’re not stupid or bad for wanting to see the best in them; parents shouldn’t _ever_ treat their children that way. You did nothing to deserve this, and no amount of action or inaction would have made a difference. This isn’t your fault, love.”

You’re just staring for a moment, stunned into silence by that short speech. Then you shake your head in slight disbelief: “I’m sure it’s not, but I’m just having a hard time believing that right now.” There’s another moment of silence before you remember the brief thoughts you had earlier about your fear of John’s behaviour, and you want to tell him so maybe at least this small bit of guilt won’t eat away at you the way everything else is. You sit up as well, looking at your hands in your lap where John’s still holding one. “John… what happened earlier…”

“Yes?” He sounds a bit confused at the change of subject.

“I’ve never seen you like that before,” you whisper. “It frightened me somewhat.” You’re still looking at your hands, unable to meet his eyes after that confession.

There’s a sound like a choked sob and you look up to see John’s eyes oddly bright as he looks at you. “I know. I’ve never reacted that way before to anything; it frightened me too. But when I saw him hurting you… I couldn’t just stand there. I had to get you out of there. I _had_ to.”

“I know.” You nod and squeeze his hand in yours, trying to reassure him just as much as he’s trying to reassure you too. “And I love you so much for that. I feel awful for being frightened, though, even if it was only for a moment. I know you’re not a danger, no matter what my dad says. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up,” you continue, smiling slightly. “You’re always looking out for me. Forgive me for thinking that, even briefly?”

“Of course I forgive you. We look after each other,” John reminds you, swiping at his eyes with his free hand. “And on that subject… I think we need a break for a bit. Just to get our heads back on straight.” You start to protest, but John just shakes his head. “You’ve just come off of taking care of me while I was so ill last year, you’ve told me your work at the museum has been stressful, and now this? You’ve been more upset today than you’ve been in months, and I think you need to take some time for yourself.”

“I’m fine!” You try to protest. “I already got threatened with being taken away from you earlier, please don’t send me away!” you beg. “I’ll be fine as long as I’ve got you to help me.”

“Ah, but see, that’s the problem.” John smiles sadly. “You’ve been working yourself so hard for my benefit for so long, and you haven’t been taking care of yourself. If you won’t be fine without me now, what will you do when I go on tour next? When I’m not around for a long period of time and something happens? We lean on each other, but that doesn’t work if we’re both on the verge of emotional collapse. You still need to take some time for yourself. If it makes you feel any better, I know I do too.”

At your look of scepticism, he clarifies: “the fact that I was driven so far as to actually physically attack your father? Regardless of whether it was self-defence, I know my mind isn’t in the best place either right now.”

You nod again, resignedly this time, trying to fight back the urge to cry _yet again_ and prove John right. You know you haven’t been the most emotionally stable since John’s health scare, and even since having him back at full health for the past couple of months, you’ve been a bit of a powder keg waiting to explode. Apparently, this was the catalyst, and now you’re dealing with the fallout.

John asks if there’s anyone in your family who would let you stay with them for a week or so, and you suggest your aunt Edna. John says he’ll contact her in the morning about the situation, and urges you in the meantime to get ready for bed. Even though it’s still early, you know both of you need the rest at this point and you don’t argue. You fall asleep curled up against each other, trying to take comfort in proximity, but it’s a fitful rest for both of you.

——

Morning comes far too quickly, and soon, John’s made the call explaining what’s going on to your aunt. As predicted, she’s more than understanding of the whole situation and says you’re welcome to stay as long as you need. You pack some things for yourself, and John drives you out to her house in the countryside.

He tries to cheer you up somewhat on the drive, and you try to put on a brave face for John’s sake, but you both know your hearts aren’t in it. He reminds you that it’s only for a week, but you know neither of you wants to be separated from the other, not after the emotional strain. It also doesn’t help to lose any time together, knowing his time is so heavily dedicated to the band anyway that any time you get is precious and not to be wasted. You know this is for the best, but on some level, it just feels like you’re losing out on time to spend together.

You know John doesn’t want to leave you either and is wary about leaving you with someone he doesn’t know, but his tension lowers the moment you arrive at your aunt’s house and she greets him with a massive hug right there on her doorstep. John’s clearly in shock at this unexpectedly warm greeting but takes it in stride and chats with her briefly before he has to leave. Your aunt gives you a moment alone to say goodbye, and John tells you that he likes her and that he’s much surer now that you’ll be well looked after. He reassures you once more that things will be better when you see each other again before pressing a brief kiss to your lips and heading off.

Watching the car disappear into the distance after John drops you off is the most emotionally stressful thing to you at the moment, and you can’t help feeling somewhat as though you’ve been cast adrift. But you force yourself to take deep breaths and not to collapse right there on the doorstep, heading into the house and reminding yourself it’s only a week.

The first two days are the worst. You find yourself listless and numb, going back and forth between just wanting to lie in bed and sleep, and wanting to cry and scream until you possibly can’t anymore. Unfortunately, moments of dramatic screaming at the ceiling or out in a field (both of which you could theoretically do out here in the countryside) only give people clarity in films, so you know that’s out of the question.

As for lying around, your aunt doesn’t press it for the first little while and gives you some space (but tells you in no uncertain terms that if you aren’t in the kitchen at meal times, you’ll not be eating, and she’s not willing to compromise on that). By the second afternoon, though, she’s ripping open the bedroom curtains and letting light stream in, not allowing you to lie around and mope in the dark anymore.

By the third day, she insists that you get up, even if it’s just to wander the house aimlessly so you don’t let yourself completely fade away in bed. “I don’t think your husband would appreciate coming back to find you completely atrophied into a lump,” she calls out from the kitchen as you sift through her collection of books on jungle animals aimlessly in the sitting room. You roll your eyes, knowing that’s not physically possible, and her voice continues: “and don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady; I know what I’m about.” Your eyes widen at that. _How does she **do** that?_

Normally you’d name the trite old excuse of “mother’s/family intuition”, but the fact remains that your aunt isn’t actually a blood relative; she’s just a close family friend that had watched over you and your brothers for ages until you got old enough to watch them yourself, and while the connection between her and your parents had waned a long time ago, you’d still remained in good contact with her. She was the first person you’d ever told about being ace, and in some ways, now more than ever, you consider her closer than most of your own family.

You know she’ll make you talk about what exactly is going on at some point this week, but thankfully she hasn’t pressed it yet. You don’t know how much John has told her, but even if it isn’t very much, you suspect she has some idea, given what she already knows about your family’s opinions.

Sure enough, after dinner that evening, she has you sit down with her and gently but firmly tells you that you need to talk about this, and not keep it bottled up. One thing’s for certain, your aunt doesn’t beat around the bush. Slowly, the whole story pours out, and you end up crying several times again as you tell it but she never rushes you; she lets you take the time you need to get through this, only pausing occasionally to rub at your back gently to offer comfort.

“…and to top it off, I don’t know who I’m most upset with; my parents, myself, or just life in general,” you finish, sniffling. “It’s just been a hard couple of years for us; I know relationships and marriage aren’t easy, but can’t we have a break?”

“Why would you be upset with yourself, dear?” your aunt asks. “It’s not bad to have wanted to see the best in them and hope that they would have wanted to reconcile. Besides, from the sounds of it, you did try to leave on your own to protect yourself; they prevented you from that.”

“I don’t know,” you moan. “I just feel as though I should have been able to do more. To do better. It drove John to the point of punching my dad because he didn’t see another option for getting us out of there.”

“You blame yourself for that?” She raises an eyebrow.

“You should have seen the look on his face, Auntie.” You’re wiping at your eyes, but it doesn’t seem to help. “John’s not a violent person; I know it affected him that he was driven this far, even if it was to protect me. And I can’t help but feel responsible for that.”

“I’m sure John doesn’t see it as your fault,” your aunt reminds you, shaking her head. “You’re taking care of each other now, don’t forget that. You told me everything you did for him this past year while he was ill; now he’s paying back in kind and taking care of you in his own way. He did what he felt he had to, to ensure your safety and get you away from danger.”

“It has been nice to have someone stand up for me against my parents,” you admit, nodding. “He’s done that right from the start, and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever loved him more than in those moments. No one’s ever done that for me before; either they thought I was just overreacting, or they agreed with my parents and just thought I was ‘going through a phase’. I’m sure John would have stood up for me even if he wasn’t also ace, though - I really don’t deserve someone like him.”

“Nonsense,” she chides gently. “You deserve him as much as he deserves you. The two of you are good for each other, and you both have each other’s backs. Even if you appear to be a ‘regular’ couple on the surface, you aren’t, and it’ll be more difficult for you, being the way you are. People who don’t understand will lash out… but you don’t need me to tell you that, clearly, or you wouldn’t be here. You need to keep working together to have that strong united front, though; if you stick together no one will be able to tear you down.”

“You really think so?” You look at her hopefully, feeling the dark cloud that’s been hovering over you dissipating somewhat.

“I know so,” she says, smiling. “You two obviously love each other; never lose that. What you have with John is real and not easily found, so make sure you never let go.”

When you go to bed that night, you’re still a bit stressed, but that conversation has left you feeling optimistic in a way that you haven’t felt for a while now.

——

The rest of the week flies by after that, and by the end, you have to admit John was right about this; you did need some time to yourself with no worries about work or lingering paranoia about John’s health. You suspect a part of you will always worry about what the stresses of being in a band will do to him, but at least you’re not being mired down by those concerns right now as badly as you have been.

When John comes to pick you up, you can already tell that he’s doing better as well; his posture is less tense and he’s smiling much more easily than before. Your aunt invites him in for tea and they chat for a bit, letting her get to know him better instead of just getting secondhand knowledge from you. For the most part, you don’t contribute, just happy to watch them interact and happy that you have some kind of family member than John can have this connection with, if not your actual family.

More than once, you catch your aunt giving you knowing looks at any of yours or John’s interactions with each other: whenever John’s telling her about something that involves the two of you and giving you fond glances as he does, when you reach over to take his hand and give it a squeeze while you’re recalling a funny story, and the way you two naturally lean in towards each other unconsciously the whole time. You can see her eyes twinkling every time she sees any of these, and you’re so pleased to know that she approves of your relationship and marriage.

When you’re leaving to go home later, John goes to put your things in the car, and your aunt takes this opportunity to give you another warm hug. She reminds you that you and John are welcome to visit at any time, and in fact jokes that you need to come to see her more often in general. You agree, grinning wryly: “Hopefully next time it’ll be under much better circumstances, though.”

“Regardless of the circumstance! You both are always welcome here, and it’d be lovely to see you more often.” She beams then leans in closer to you, pitching her voice lower so John can’t hear. “I really do think you’re good for each other; the amount of love I saw today was something you don’t see very often in married couples. Never lose that.”

You go red, slightly embarrassed, and try to think back on the afternoon’s events. Were you and John being too wrapped up in each other and not sociable enough? Your aunt shakes her head at your obvious attempt to pinpoint what she’d noticed and laughs slightly in amusement. “Nothing so obvious, dear. You probably didn’t even realize you were doing it; it’s the little things I noticed, but that’s enough to prove to me that he truly loves you, and you love him.” She takes your hands in hers for a moment. “I know things are tricky with him being out and about for band business, but I believe that the two of you will be unshakable if you keep up this kind of love and support.” She turns toward where John is approaching you, come to say his goodbyes as well.

He thanks your aunt again for her hospitality, to which she just waves a hand dismissively. “It’s no trouble at all! You both are welcome here anytime, whether it’s just for an afternoon or if you need a few days away from the city. I don’t get nearly as many visitors as you’d think, and the two of you are delightful company.” Now it’s John’s turn to go slightly red at this praise while she wraps him in a hug as well.

On the way back home, you find yourself thinking about how truly lucky you are. Your relationship with your parents is beyond salvaging at this point, true, but you at least have someone else you can turn to instead. Your aunt’s unconditional support of you and John is something you didn’t realize you had missed so badly up til now. You know you’d had her support ever since you first told her about being ace when you were 18, and she’s always had nothing but nice things to say about John when you’ve spoken about him to her, but seeing it in action today with her interactions with John and hearing it verified to your face is another matter entirely.

You suspect that on some level, John needed that validation too, as he keeps turning to look at you every time you stop at a traffic light, and the utter happiness and contentment on his face is a sight you want to have etched in your memory forever.

Maybe one day things can be better with your parents… or at least tolerable. Hopefully, your brothers will understand when they’re older, though it still aches to think that you might never see or hear from any of them again. You shake your head, banishing these thoughts, and focus back on the positives: you got out safely from what could have been a very dangerous situation, your head is clearer than it’s been in months, and you still have some time together with John before he’s summoned to go deal with more band business again. Right now, everything’s alright, and even if it’s just temporary you’ll take what you can get. You’ve been through enough lately.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also @smittyjaws on Tumblr, if you want to hit up my dumpster fire of a blog!


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